Who Wants to Help Amanda?
by Jo2
Summary: Methos perhaps?


WHO WANTS TO HELP AMANDA?  
  
By JoLayne  
  
EMAIL: EnyaJo@aol.com  
  
RATING: G  
  
CHARACTERS: Methos and Amanda and someone else that I won't  
dream of revealing here. Have to read to the end to figure out who it is.  
  
CLASSIFICATION: Humor. Definitely humor  
  
SUMMARY: Methos goes through a little personal history while he waits  
on a phone call.  
  
DISCLAIMER: All the characters you recognize belong to Panzer/Davis.   
  
====================  
METHOS' BROWNSTONE  
SEACOUVER  
====================  
  
Methos finished preparing himself a delightful cup of camomile tea, just  
the way he liked it. Very strong tea with a touch of lemon, a drop of  
honey, then a splash of bourbon. Just a splash, no more, no less. Only  
Methos knew how much was perfect. He took the hot cup on it's saucer  
and walked to the couch, listening to Springsteen Live and peering at  
the boob tube as it silently emitted the picture of two men in safari hats  
walking hunched over into the Great Chamber of the Pyramid at Giza on  
the Learning Channel.  
  
He carefully sat down as to not spill the tea and took a little sip. Ah, hot,  
sweet, with a kick. "Baby we were born to run..." he hummed along as he  
sat back and watched one of the safari men point up to one of the air  
shafts on the wall above his head. Methos laid back on the couch, set the  
cup and saucer on his chest and smiled. He reached for one of the many  
remotes on the bronze chest he used as a foot rest while sitting on the  
couch and turned down the stereo, then took another remote and  
turned up the telly.  
  
"Now, these air shafts can be many things," the man told the camera,  
and in turn, Methos.  
  
Methos humphed and sat up, "Theorists..."  
  
The man stated that the shafts, "... are perfectly aligned in a geometrical  
angle with the pyramid itself."  
  
"Egyptians did know math. It's the universal language, pin head,"  
Methos told the man, setting the cup and saucer on the chest and  
leaned forward. He had to turn The Boss off so he could listen to the  
latest theories of the great pyramid's construction by those two  
`experts'.   
  
The other man on TV was in the midst of a monologue, "Were the  
ancient Egyptians taking courses from aliens from outer space to build  
this structure as a conduit?" Methos' forehead started to crease. "Are  
those shafts as they are so the aliens would have a means of entry into  
this vault?" The creases became deeper with the old man's frustration.  
"Is there a treasure, not of gold or jewels, hidden in this room? A secret  
to the connection between alien and human life forms?"  
  
Methos sat back, confused at the far fetched ideas that came from  
oblivious people. The other man took over, "Or were they just a means of  
exit for the builders of the great pyramid?"  
  
Methos decided he liked the other one better, but they were both  
wrong. The other man continued, "Were the shafts aligned perfectly to  
the heavens so that the great Pharaoh's soul could have a direct route to  
the afterlife?"  
  
Methos shook his head, paced, "How about... the shafts were to make  
sure there was fresh air for the men while they were preparing the  
Pharaoh? Didn't you ever think of that? Or is that too simple?"  
  
He looked around the room and the only one in listening area was his  
goldfish, Titus, a joke gift from MacLeod. Methos knew MacLeod was  
taking bets with Joe and Amanda on how long it would take for Titus to  
die of starvation as Methos was known to take off without notice and  
wouldn't think to take a fish with him. Well, Methos was getting the last  
laugh. It had been six months, and Titus was still swimming strong.  
MacLeod had forgotten, he had a caretaker for his building while he was  
away and one of the last things he put on the list for him to do was to  
feed his goldfish. Looking at the tank reminded Methos that Titus  
should be fed.  
  
As he punched a couple of shakes onto the surface of the water, he  
heard a commercial for a Dodge Durango came on TV. It caught Methos'  
attention, as he'd become partial to the SUVs. He sprawled on the couch,  
drank his spiked tea, and watched the car ride through snow, driving  
rain, mud and up a gravel mound, seemingly in one afternoon. Methos  
looked at his watch. Drank the rest of the tea and debated on making  
another or grabbing a beer. He turned the TV down and turned up the  
stereo. Looked at his watch again.  
  
Well, she wasn't going to call. Methos had to admit that Amanda did  
have a good head on her shoulders, but she didn't have book smarts.  
And, who knew how fast her fingers were. "Fifteen more minutes,  
Amanda. That's all I'm giving you."  
  
He set the tea on the chest and grabbed a National Geographic. It was  
old, but then again, so was he. Being 5,000 years old was amazing at  
times, even to him. Just a look here, a glance there, suddenly he'd  
remember 100 years back, 1000 years back... "Ten more minutes,  
Amanda."  
  
It wasn't like he didn't have things to do, people to meet. But he  
promised her. To not be there in case she needed him would be taking a  
huge step back in the reformation of Amanda. They were all trying to  
get her to change, to be more concerned about ... Methos stopped.  
What was it MacLeod was trying to teach her? And, how did Methos get  
involved in the whole escapade? He couldn't remember.   
  
Methos was working as an artifact researcher for the museum and  
caught a glance of the many photographs of his latest item to  
investigate. A golden breastplate dating from 400 - 300 BCE. As soon as  
Methos saw it unpacked in the basement of the museum the day it  
arrived, his heart raced. He'd seen it before. Touched it. But, he had to be  
careful. He couldn't be too protective of it, anymore so than any other  
object in the museum. The hair on the back of Methos' head rose with  
excitement when he realized that it was in fact the armor of Alexander  
the Great. The museum didn't even know what they had. To them, it was  
an object from before their Christ, and that alone made it valuable and  
worthy of attention and display. To have proof it was worn by Alexander  
the Great himself... well, it would be priceless.  
  
Methos knew it was Alexander's from personal recollection which was  
strong, but he also knew that the Great King's battle pieces were  
stamped with the seal, "A III M", that stood for Alexander the Third of  
Macedon. Also, it had the markings on the inside of the breastplate  
made by Alexander himself to symbolize how many victories he had. By  
the time Methos met up with him, he had seen that breastplate and the  
number of notches but didn't take the time to count them all at the  
time. He only remembered there were a lot of them, well over a  
hundred. For the short time Methos had his hands on that breastplate at  
the museum after packing, he took the time to count them. There were  
exactly 326. There was also a massive dent on the shoulder, which  
probably made Alexander put it aside for a new one. To have another  
one made would be no problem for the young king, and that dented  
breastplate would make swinging a sword difficult, if not impossible.  
  
The museum would only be open for another hour and 5 minutes. If he  
hurried, he could go back and see it one more time before it went  
through the dip and cleanse process that would take weeks. Methos  
grabbed his coat from the hook and made sure his Ivanhoe was securely  
sheathed and headed for the door, just as the phone rang. To his  
surprise, he was happy. It had to be Amanda. She got that far! Good for  
her! He sat on the couch and grabbed the receiver, "Hello?"  
  
Methos held the phone to his shoulder with the side of his head as he  
took his coat off, wondering what the problem she couldn't solve would  
be. Would it be about the crusades? The reign of Ivan the Terrible?  
Buddha? Dinosaurs? He'd have trouble with that, but he could give it a  
try. A voice asked, "Adam Pierson?"  
  
"Yes," Methos replied.  
  
"This is Regis Philbin from New York, we're playing Who Wants to Be a  
Millionaire, how are you?"  
  
Methos smiled, not really believing that Amanda made it through the  
load of questions to be at a point that she'd need lifelines. Was she  
actually at the million dollar question? Not that she needed the money  
and a million would be chump change for himself, but he loved game  
shows. Was on one himself. He said, "I'm fine, Regis."  
  
"I'm sitting here with Amanda Montrose and she's hit a tough one."  
  
"Great. How much has she won so far?"  
  
"Well she's won $8,000 and is having trouble with the $16,000 question."  
  
"What?! Amanda, are you crazy?" Methos sputtered into the phone.  
"Why are you burning a phone a friend before the $32,000 question?"  
  
Regis' voice chuckled and said, "You two can have this discussion later.  
The next voice you hear will be Amanda and she'll read you the question  
and the two possible answers, one is right and the other is wrong."  
  
Methos was stunned, "She burned the 50-50 on this one too?!"  
  
Regis chuckled again, and Methos could hear Amanda hollering on the  
line, but couldn't make out what she was saying. Methos put his head on  
his hand and muttered, "I suppose she polled the audience already..."  
  
Regis told him, "Yes, on the $500 question, anyway..."  
  
Methos sat with his head still in his hand, shook it. How come she never  
took a bit of advice from him? He told her to keep the lifelines intact  
until they were absolutely needed, the questions weren't that hard on  
that show. How can a 1200 year old woman need a 50-50 on a $500  
question? But to be fair, it could have had something to do with fairy  
tales that were so much different today than their origins, and different  
countries had their own version. Amanda doesn't watch a lot of TV,  
could have been a soap opera question... What was she going to hit him  
with?  
  
Regis continued, "Here is Amanda, and you have 30 seconds."  
  
"Adam?" Amanda said, "This is the question..."  
  
"I'm sure it's a toughy," the irony oozed out of Methos' mouth.  
  
"In 1977," Amanda read. "What film won the Oscar for Best Picture? Was  
it C. Star Wars or D. Annie Hall?"  
  
The silence over the phone line was only a couple of seconds, but what  
seemed to Amanda to be an hour. Methos finally, angrily muttered,  
"You're kidding me, right? I'm your history phone a friend, Amanda, not  
your pop culture phone a friend." He remembered that a Chubby  
Checker question killed his hopes on another quiz show.  
  
Amanda hurriedly explained, "Well, you're always spouting about how  
damn smart you are. Well, here you can show all of America."  
  
"D," Methos answered.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Annie Hall. Yes."  
  
"How do you know that--?" Amanda asked, but the connection ended.  
  
Methos hung up and knew that she wasn't going to get much farther.  
Oh well, he did his job. He was off to remember his time with Alexander.  
  
THE END  



End file.
